Second Chances
by Cylina Nightshade
Summary: Do you believe in second chances?


Description: Do you believe in second chances?

Rating: K+

Stuff: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist

Warnings: none

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><p>Second Chances<p>

"See that one there with the red door? That's your aunt's townhouse. Are you excited to meet her?"

I didn't bother responding to her question and simply looked at the house with the red door. I decided to hate it. The woman, who kept telling me to call her Emily, reached down to grab my hand, leading me towards the red door. The whole ride here Emily tried to convince me my aunt was a nice woman and that I'd enjoy living with her. I didn't care. I didn't want to care. I wanted to go back to my home with Mom and Dad.

But the dead never come back.

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><p>I sat on the swing not moving and watched the other kids play. They climbed on the jungle gym, squealed as they slid down the slides, and ran around playing tag. Aunt Chris had brought me to the park because I needed 'fresh air' she said. I shuffled my foot making random designs in the dirt under the swing.<p>

"You're suppose to swing on that. That's why it's called a swing."

My head shot up to look at whoever was speaking to me. It was a boy. I guessed a few years older than me. His blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. His aureate eyes peered back at me.

"You don't talk much do you? That's ok." He moved around behind me and lightly pushed my back setting the swing in motion.

I quickly jumped off the swing and spun around to face him. "Leave me alone."

A stubborn glint flashed through his aureate eyes. "What if I don't wanna?"

I picked a random direction and started to walk away.

He followed.

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><p>It seemed every time Aunt Chris took me to the park he was there. He wouldn't just leave me alone, stubbornly following me everywhere.<p>

He told me his name was Eideard, and declared that since he always wanted a little brother, I was now it.

He'd constantly grab my hand and lead me to whatever he wanted to show me or whatever he wanted to do.

I grudgingly went along.

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><p>I glanced over his shoulder, looking at what he was drawing in the sand. "What is that?"<p>

"It's a transmutation circle."

"What's that?"

"For alchemy. You can use it to change stuff. My dad showed me."

"I wanna see."

"Umm… I can't really, yet." He looked up at me, and that stubborn glint flashed through his eyes again. "But one day I'm gonna be a State Alchemist! Dad says they're the best!"

My lips formed into a small smile. "Then maybe you should actually learn how to do it first."

He lightly punched me on the shoulder and grinned.

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><p>I laid on the floor surrounded by school books and papers. I faintly heard a knock on the front door.<p>

Aunt Chris yelled, "Roy! Eid's here!"

I ran down the hallway to greet him. "Heya, Eid."

He ruffled my hair. "Hey, Squirt. My dad let me borrow another alchemy book. Wanna look it over with me?"

I gave him a smug look. "You just want me to explain it to you so you understand."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He headed down the hallway toward my room.

I followed.

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><p>We lounged on the hood of his car watching the stars.<p>

"So, Roy, you think your aunt's gonna get you a car in a few years when you're old enough?"

"Don't know. Maybe."

"Can't believe my folks even considered this clunker, let alone actually bought it. If you end up with a better one I'm making you drive us everywhere."

I smirked. "You just want to use it to pick up chicks."

He grinned. "Isn't that what cars are for?"

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><p>There was a haze in the air. The acrid smell of smoke tickled my nose. I stood frozen in the sea of chaos buzzing around me, watching the glowing fire consume the house and give off billowing plumes of undulating smoke. The house I had spent many an evening or weekend in. The house that held so many memories. The house that contained my friend.<p>

There was shouted conversation all around but my brain could hardly comprehend it.

"...too hot..."

"...whole family…"

"...need more buckets…"

"...such a shame…"

"...not working…"

I watched the luminous tendrils ripple and heave. They looked like little grubby hands greedily reaching, trying to grasp anything that was near them. Trying to devour everything.

The townsfolk worked tirelessly through the night, but they could not tame the blaze. It was a creature that refused to bend to their will.

I watched. I watched as the house steadily turned to rubble. I watched as the flames gradually died down, turning to embers. I watched as the sparks floated idly on the breeze.

The air was harsh, astringent with smoke and heat but I still felt the cool wetness on my cheeks.

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><p>I will tame that beast. I will control it so it can never hurt anyone again.<p>

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><p>I glanced around as I got off the train. The station was small, simple. The same could be said for the town beyond. I set off on the path towards my destination; Lieutenant Hawkeye followed behind.<p>

The house was plain but neat. When I found what I was looking for I was actually surprised. The blond boy in the wheelchair seemed so small and frail. His gaze met mine.

A stubborn glint flashed through his aureate eyes.

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><p><strong>-x-<strong>

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><p>-Author's Note-<p>

Thanks for reading!

So I generally see the 14 year age difference downplayed and found myself doing that as well. Decided to try to actually embrace it. Though, I didn't actually plan on making Roy have an ironic past of wanting to specialise in flame alchemy to make sure it "never hurt anyone again". Sorry Roy.

I looked up if there was more info than just Mustang being raised by his aunt but I found a surprising lack of childhood backstory for him. Hopefully I didn't miss anything.

I really tried to express that they had a developing relationship, but be purposely vague on the details of such. Not sure if I really accomplished it though, but I wanted this story to be able to fit into anyone's prefered relationship, whether they're into friend!Roy, family!Roy, or lover!Roy.

Also, I need to stop writing when I'm half asleep. Sometimes I can't tell if things make sense or not. My brain has the stupids.

Trying to figure out how much I have to explicitly state and how much can be implied and figured out by the reader is really difficult. :(


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